This Is The House That Tock Built (Solo, Job)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

58th Day of Spring, 512 AV

(Thread will follow an extended period of time, since it details complex construction work by a crew of NPC's rebuilding destroyed homes. The events in the thread can be assumed to be spread out across many days throughout the Spring.)

The last time Minerva had worked on a construction project she hadn't gotten paid. She'd done it for fun, but it turned into a hassle when her 'client' turned out to be pushy and impatient. She'd also been forced to face the fact that her skills weren't quite up to snuff. She needed more practice, she needed more money for tools and supplies, and she needed, as much as she HATED to admit it, someone more experienced to help train her.

So she decided to get a job.

After the storm a few weeks before, there were a lot of repairs that needed to be done around the city. Construction workers were coming up short handed everywhere, and work was moving forward at a crawl, especially among the poorer districts where people couldn't afford to pay for a rushed job. Finding job working for one of those construction crews had been quite easy.

"Okay, you'll be working under Eavin for now," Jacques said, leading her down the line of workers. "I see you brought your own tools, which is good. My more experienced crew all have their own stuff, but lately we've been hiring a bunch of folk who ain't never held a hammer in their life. But right now, we take what we can get." Minerva saw some men carrying lumber past them, and recognized a few as faces she'd seen the day she was hired. A lot of men were seeking out construction work just because it was available and the pay was good, but that didn't mean they knew what they were doing. It looked like Jacques had the completely inexperienced ones working on simple tasks, carrying things around and running errands. People who had at least some experience, like Tock, would be doing the real work.

"Awright, Jack," Minerva said. "No worries." They stopped at the end of the line, at a small residential house that was completely collapsed. The storm had destroyed it utterly, and it needed to be rebuilt from the ground up.

"It's Jacques," her employer told her. He was a tall man, middle-aged, and quite handsome. He had a friendly yet stern air about him, and was clearly someone who had been used to dealing with people in a professional setting for his whole life.

"Aye, Jack," she replied. "'At's what I said. Chin up, guv," she smacked him on the arm, then headed down to the broken house. "We'll get 'er fixed right up, we will!"

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Oy, which one a' you blokes is Eavin?" Minerva asked, looking around. There were a good dozen men around the ruined house, but nobody was working yet. They were lounging about, being lazy, and generally looking useless. Jacques had already left, since he had a rather large crew to attend to. No doubt he expected this 'Eavin' to have this part of the job already in hand.

One of the men pointed Minerva towards the back of the building, and she found Eavin there, lying on a pile of rubble, drunk. It was barely 8 am. Minerva scowled and stalked up to the man, kicking his shin. He shifted and nearly fell over, muttering and cursing. She wondered if he had started drinking that morning, or if this was him coming off the end of an all night binge. Either way, it was completely unprofessional.

"Oy, you Eavin?" she asked. The gruff man swayed to his feet, scratching at the thick stubble on his chin. He smelled, he was sweaty, and he looked like he'd been wearing the same clothes for a month.

"What's it to ya?" he asked. Tock had to take a step back from the stink of the man's breath.

"Jack told me I'm workin' 'ere," she said, waving her hand through the air to try to drive off some of the stench. "Whatcha need done?"

Eavin looked around, then barked at the other layabouts, "Why ain't this rubble cleared yet? Huh? MOVE!" The men got to work, digging out shattered bricks, fallen timbers, and other bits of debris. Tock crossed her arms and stood there, waiting. Eavin looked at her and asked, "You new?" She nodded. He stepped forward and slapped her on the ass and said, "Then get to work! That rubble ain't gonna haul itself!"

"Why, YOU!" Minerva growled, raising her fist at the man. No one touched her like that.

"Yessir, right away sir," another voice said as a hand grabbed Minerva's wrist. She turned to see a sandy-haired lad in his late teens, who was giving Eavin a forced smile. The boy had a cute dimple, and blue eyes that made Tock stare for a second, mute. "We're on it," he said, pulling Minerva away.

"Now, wait a sec, I--" she protested. Pretty eyes or no, he'd just interrupted her before she got the chance to deck her supervisor, and she wanted to go back and finish the job!

"You looking to get fired your first day?" the boy asked. More man than boy, she admitted. He was clearly grown, but had a baby face that gave him a slightly younger appearance.

"Well, nah, but..." Minerva said, looking back at Eavin. He was back to his drinking. She stared and shook her head.

"Come on," Dimple said. She didn't know his name, but he kept smiling at her and flashing that boyish dimple her way. Her face felt warm.

He led her over to the rubble and started pulling pieces out. Tock looked around with a frown. "Oy, mate," she said, gesturing to the others that were already hauling stuff away. "I ain't 'ired fer no 'aulin'. I's a woodworker..."

Dimple looked up at her from his crouch by a pile of broken bricks. "Everybody's gotta help, Miss...?"

"Tock," she replied, planting her fists on her hips. She did NOT want to spent her day hauling bricks!

"I'm James," he said. She couldn't help herself but smile at learning his name.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

After about twenty minutes of hauling bricks out of the rubble, Minerva had had enough.

"'Is's takin' forever," she said to James. "Ain'tcha gotta way ta make it faster?" She was sweaty and already feeling a little sore. All the broken material had to be hauled to a wagon, which would later take it to a dump site. Unfortunately, with all the debris strewn everywhere, they couldn't park the wagon close, so they had to carry every brick ALL the way across to where the wagon was parked. It was a lot of useless back and forth, and with the amount of rubble they had to get through, it was going to take forever.

"It is what it is, Miss Tock," James said. He didn't seem to mind the work, but then, he was more muscular than her. She was more used to detail work than grunt work.

"Ain't no 'Miss Tock'," she said. She didn't much like the idea of James calling her 'Miss.' "Jus' 'Tock.' Ya ain't gotta be givin' me no 'Miss.' I ain't but what, two years on ya?"

James flashed her a grin and nodded. "Sorry," he said. "My mama raised me to be a gentleman." Tock couldn't help herself but smile in return.

"Oy, nuff o' 'at now," Tock said, starting to feel oddly uncomfortable. "But what we gonna do 'bout 'is?" She gestured to the huge mess they still had to dig through. Even with a dozen coworkers helping, it was going to take too long.

James shrugged and said, "What is there to do? We keep at it." Minerva looked around and shook her head. None of the workers were working together. There was no teamwork, coordination, or management. If her Granddad had seen people working so sloppily in his shop, he'd have thrown a fit.

"Tch, no," Minerva declared. "We gots ta work smart. Where's Eavin?"

"Eavin won't be bothered with us til the first stage is done," James told her. "Once the rubble is cleared, he'll start assigning specific tasks." James was obviously used to having a lazy, drunk layabout for a supervisor. Minerva wasn't. She was used to the way her Granddad ran things.

"'Old on," she said. "I'll fix 'im..." She stalked back towards the rear of the building and found Eavin in the same place she'd first found him. "Oy! Bossman!" she said.

He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. "That rubble hauled yet?" he asked gruffly.

"Nah, y'see--"

"Then get back to work!" he shouted. Minerva stared him down.

"Look, you," she said, shaking a finger at him. "These blokes need coordination. Ain't nothin' gonna--"

He cut her off, "Look, Red. I don't care how you get it done! I just want that rubble cleared out!"

"Tch, fine!" Tock shouted. "I'll get 'er done, ya no good dodger!" She stalked off, fists clenched, grumbling and cursing under her breath.

"What'd he say?" James asked when she got back.

"He said we's doin' this MY way now..." she replied. At least, that's how she was choosing to interpret Eavin's words. As far as she was concerned, 'I don't care how you get it done,' meant the same thing as, 'Do whatever you want.'

So she would.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOCThis is a demonstration of Minerva's Lore of "Managing/Organizing a team of builders in a workshop or construction project," learned from watching her Granddad run his shop.

"Oy! Bludgers!" Minerva called out, using her hands cupped around her mouth to project her voice. "Listen up!" Her coworkers paused in their work, pretty much glad for any excuse for a short break. "'Is's takin' forever, so 'ere's what we're gonna do..." Technically she had no authority to tell anyone here what to do, but there were two things she knew about getting construction workers to listen. One, most people would listen to what you said if it meant they didn't need to think or figure things out for themselves, and two, they would always listen to anything that promised to make the job easier.

There was also the fact that Tock was pushy and stubborn, and more than willing to force people to do what she said.

"We gotta clear out 'is 'ere rubble first," she said, gesturing to the strewn debris that was blocking access to the wagon. "'At way, we can get the wagon up nice an' close, 'stead o' walkin' all 'is way wit' each load, aye?" If they cleared the surrounding rubble to make space, they'd have a much easier time getting the rubble in the building itself cleared.

"But Eavin said to leave this..." one of the men protested.

"'E said its fine," Minerva said, waving her hand dismissively. "Look, if'n we clear 'is all out quicker, y'all can get done sooner, aye? 'At means less time 'aulin' rubble, an' more time down at the tavern tonight, aye? Aye." There was a little uncertainty and some shrugs, but the idea of getting done faster certainly appealed to everyone. "Come on," Minerva said, "I ain't wantin' ta be 'ere all day either, right? Let's go."

The men started helping Minerva clear the debris that was blocking the wagon's path. As they worked, she picked out some pieces here and there that looked to still be in good condition. "'Ere, save 'ese over 'ere," she said, starting a couple of piles off to the side of the work area. "We can use 'em later, aye?" She started organizing a couple different piles of salvageable bricks, lumber, and other parts that could still be used. The truly broken stuff went into the wagon.

The men were still disorganized, though. Tock sighed, and grabbed a couple of them by their arms and guided them into positions in a line. "'Ere, 'is's faster. Form a line," she said. She gathered up a few others, and soon had them in a line, passing bricks and lumber from one person to the next. They had a steady stream of activity then, passing things down the line to the wagon. It was faster, and took less energy since no one was moving back and forth constantly.

Before long, the main open area in front of the house was clear. Then Minerva had the wagon driver back it up closer to the house. New passing lines were formed, with a few men down in the foundation of the house passing rubble up to the others. It increased efficiency a great deal. By the time Jacques came by at the end of the day to check on their progress, they had cleared out more debris than any of the other teams at the neighboring houses on the block.

"Good work, Eavin," Jacques said with a greatly surprised tone. He was probably used to low expectations from the inebriated supervisor.

Before Eavin could take credit, Tock stepped forward and said, "Oy, 'e ain't done jack squat all day. We done got 'er all done," she gestured to herself and her coworkers. "Teamwork, aye?"

"Well, good job, all of you, then," Jacques said, looking Tock over with an appraising eye.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

After the day's work, most of the men headed down to the tavern to drink their pay away. They ended up dragging Minerva down there with them, even though she really wanted to be home, working on her personal projects. Of course, one of the advantages of being a cute redhead among that many men was she didn't have to pay for any of her own drinks.

"What the 'ell is this?" she asked when someone put a mug of something green in front of her.

"Kelp beer," James told her, taking a long swig from his own mug. "Go on, try it!"

Minerva frowned at the mug and sniffed it. She leaned back, making a disgusted face. "You's kiddin' me, right?" she asked. "It smells like fish!" She didn't mind the taste of fish for dinner, but in her drink?

James shook his head and laughed, "It's not made from fish..."

"Oh... aye," Minerva said, bravely taking a sip.

"It's fermented seaweed," James finished. Minerva choked and spit a mouthful of the foul stuff halfway across the room. The entire tavern laughed at her, calling out rude names that she assumed were the local slang for 'foreigners.'

They managed to get her to drink a few mugs anyway, and later that night, James was walking her home through the mostly empty streets. She was leaning on him in a bit more friendly of a manner than she might have without several pints of that swill they called beer in her. In true gentlemanly fashion, he walked her right to her door.

"You gonna be all right?" he asked her, holding her steady. She wasn't quite drunk enough to fall over... but she was certainly swaying a bit.

"Aye," she replied, eyeing him with slightly unfocused vision. "Aye, I'll be jus' fine, I will..." He looked nice.

"All right," he said, squeezing her hand. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Aye," she said huskily, leaning against her door and watching him intently as he walked away. It was a good thing he was a gentleman, because a few beers in her had her not feeling very lady-like at all.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

The next day of work was more hauling rubble, but in less time than anyone had expected, they had it all cleared out. The ruined house was now no more than a somewhat damaged foundation, ready to be re-built from the ground up.

Eavin finally decided to find supervise, now that the first main task he'd set them on was done. He sent some of the men off to bring in fresh supplies, now that there was room for them. They started bringing in bricks to repair the foundation, and new lumber to rebuild the rest of the structure, along with miscellaneous things like nails and buckets of mortar.

It turned out James was an apprentice mason, so he was assigned to work in the foundation. A more experienced mason was moving from one house to another on the block, checking on the work of several apprentices. For the most part, James seemed confident enough in what he was doing, just needing a few pointers here and there from the expert to correct minor mistakes.

Meanwhile Eavin called Minerva over. "Red," he said, drawing a scowl from her. "Doors, window shutters, and shingles. Here's the plans," he handed her a sheaf of blueprints. The designs were simple, the wooden shingles especially being simple repetition. They just needed to be cut to spec, and then have grooves carved into each one for the way they'd fit together. The most important part was to make them uniform in size. She could also add just a small bit of a decorative touch, shaping the flat bottom edge of each one into a curve. She figured that'd be popular with the seafaring folk here, since the curved lines of the shingles across the roof could be made to look somewhat like ocean waves.

Like James, she'd be checked on by a master who was checking in the work of several woodworkers up and down the line of houses.

Eavin wasn't giving anyone more detailed instructions than assigning the tasks and expecting them to be completed, so Minerva took it upon herself to organize things once he was out of the way. She didn't like a messy workspace. As the workers were carrying in tools, parts, and supplies, she directed them where to put everything. The parts were sorted by size and type, and the tools kept where they'd be the most easily accessible without being in the way when they weren't being used. The workers didn't much seem to care where they dropped things off, so they had no reason to argue with her decisions. Half of them had never even worked construction before (which is why they got stuck with the grunt work of hauling things back and forth, while apprentices like Minerva and James did the more skilled work).

She set herself up a workspace near where James was working on the foundation. In between telling the haulers where to dump their latest loads, she made some conversation with the apprentice mason while they worked. "So, aye, ya been at 'at kinda work long?" she asked. "Bricklayin', I mean."

"About five years," he replied. "Since I was fourteen. It's easy enough, for the most part. Just a matter of keeping things level and straight." Minerva watched closely as he worked, getting an idea of how the task was done. Later, when the expert mason came along to check on James's work, she listened in on the pointers he gave. One of the biggest things seemed to be using the right amount of mortar. Too little, and you didn't get a firm enough seal. Too much, and it didn't dry right, and the bricks could wind up lopsided.

When the work day was almost done and James was just short of finishing the section he was working on, she went over to give him a hand. "'Ere, lemme 'elp," she said. "Finish 'er up quick, an' we can maybe try some o' 'at seaweed swill again, aye?" She grinned, and James nodded and chuckled.

He laid the mortar and smoothed it, and she helped lay the bricks in place. "Keep them all straight," he told her, helping make some minute adjustments. She felt her face warm when their fingers touched briefly. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the work. Working together, they finished the row quickly, right before Eavin called everyone to quit for the day.

She helped check one last time that the line of bricks were straight and level, then gathered up he rest of her tools. They laid canvas tarps over the rest of the supplies, weighing down the ends with spare bricks. Rain was pretty common, this close to the sea, and the lumber especially needed to be protected so it didn't swell and crack.

With everything tucked away for the night, they headed down to the tavern again for another bout of post-workday fermented seaweed.

Yuck.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

As the work progressed, a few of less experienced men were put under the direction of a skilled carpenter, building the frames for the house's walls. Minerva watched what they were doing, and listened to the directions the carpenter gave, even though she wasn't helping them. A few times she took a peek at the blueprints and asked the carpenter some questions, wanting to get an idea of the overall process. For the most part, though, she had her own work to do. While the others were cutting board for the walls, she was cutting shingles.

At one point, she spotted a stray hand reaching for her hammer. Scowling, she jabbed her chisel into the bare skin, giving the would-be thief a small cut. "'At's mine!" she shouted.

The man yelped and clutched the wound with his other hand. "What's the big idea, lady!?" he shouted. "I just needed a hammer here."

She waved with her chisel to where the 'community' tools were. "Use those!" she growled. "Ain't nobody touches my tools!" The man stalked off, injured and angered, and left Tock grumbling to herself.

James stepped over to her, wearing an expression of mixed amusement and concern at her volatile reaction to the other man. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Aye," Minerva replied. "I jus' don't want nobody touchin' my tools." She turned back to her carpentry work, cutting shingles to add to the large pile she already had going.

James frowned and scratched his head, no doubt wondering why she took the matter so personally. "Is there something special about them?" he asked.

Minerva grew quiet. She kept cutting the wood, wishing he would just drop it. He didn't. "Tock?" he asked.

"'Ey were my Granddad's, awright?" she muttered, refusing to look up at him. She didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes.

"Oh..." he replied, growing quiet. He seemed to get it. "All right..." He reached out and laid a hand on her arm, giving it a brief squeeze. Then he went back to his work, and left her to hers.

Minerva really wanted to hit someone.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

The expert woodcarver held up a few of the shingles, comparing them to each other for conformity of size and shape. He examined them with an experienced eye, then gave Minerva a nod. "Good," he said, "just watch the width on these grooves." He ran a finger along the guiding grooves that would be used to fit the shingles together on the roof. "We want a nice, tight fit so they don't come loose up there." She nodded and thanked him, and he left to check on some of the other workers. She settled into a seat on the low brick wall of the foundation, and went back to work.

While she was using a chisel to carve out the grooves, James asked her, "So, how long have you been a woodworker?"

"My whole life," she replied, eyes still on her work. "I 'ave more fun wit' gadgets n'such, but there ain't as much work for 'at stuff, aye? Easier ta find payin' work doin' 'is 'ere. I's gonna be makin' golems one day, though."

"Golems?" he asked in surprise. No doubt it wasn't the sort of thing one expected to hear from a girl who seemed to be a simple woodcarver.

"Aye," she said, setting down one completed shingle and starting on another. "'Is 'ere is jus' ta pay for schoolin' 'n stuff, aye? I used ta be 'prentice ta a Animator, 'fore 'e kicked me out. Now I's up at th' Uni, an' workin' 'ere ta pay fer classes. Plus it's good practice, aye? Carvin' grooves ta 'old shingles in place today, carvin' parts ta fit finger joints together tomorrow..."

"Wow..." James said, stunned into silence. Minerva kept at her work, carving the straight, narrow grooves, and checking each shingle to make sure it could lock together with the others properly, humming as she worked.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

With the frame of the house up, Minerva started taking measurements of the door frame. She wasn't finished with the shingles yet, but she wanted to get these numbers down. While she was busy taking measurements, jotting down numbers, and comparing them to the plans, Eavin came over and asked her what she was doing.

She hated that question.

"Workin'," she said, without pausing in what she was doing.

"Working on what, Red?" Eavin demanded. "That ain't your job! Leave it to Carl, and get back to work!" The drunken fool wouldn't even look her in the eye while he was yelling at her, instead trying to look down her shirt.

She stood up and shook her hammer in his face. "Oy," she said, "ya call me 'Red' one more time, an' yer gonna be bleedin' red all out ya nose! Now leave off, an' lemme do my job!"

He grabbed her wrist and shoved the hammer away from his face, then stuck a meaty finger in hers. "Your job's what I tell you it is!" he shouted. "Now get back to it!"

"Oy, aye, sure," she yelled back. "I'll jus' make the door the way the plans say, and she won't fit. Aye, 'at's a swell idea, 'at is!" She was really ready to pop him one.

"What the fuck are you babbling about, Red?" he yelled.

Well, she'd warned him.

She dropped her hammer and swung a fist at his face, popping him right on the nose. Then she cursed and shook her hand in pain... that had HURT. Luckily the rest of the crew rushed over, because otherwise she was about to be splattered. Eavin was a drunk, so she'd managed to get off a lucky shot. But even with his dulled reflexes, he would mop the floor with her. Not that she cared just then. She was pissed off at the rude way he'd been treating her since day one. Aside from the lewd spank he'd given her the first day, there had been leering, swearing, and a great deal of ungentlemanly behavior. She took a couple more swings at him before James managed to pull her back. It took three men to hold Eavin back.

"Lemme go!" she shouted, struggling in James's grip. This wasn't exactly the circumstances in which she'd hoped to get his arms around her. He wouldn't let go until she calmed down, though. By the time both her and Eavin were settled enough that everyone could be sure they wouldn't start swinging again, Jacques had arrived.

"What's going on here?" he demanded.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Oy, Jack!" Minerva yelled. "Ya blimey bludger 'ere don't know 'ow ta add! And 'e's a sleazy drunk what can't keep 'is eyes where they belong!"

Eavin spat out a mouthful of blood and snapped back, "I wouldn't touch your skinny, upright, frigid ass with a fishing pole!"

James had to hold Minerva back again. "Why ya dirty, smelly bugger!" she shouted. "Come over 'ere an' say 'at, aye!" She didn't have the sense right then to realize how bad an idea it would be to make such threats against a man like Eavin if they didnt have four men holding them apart.

It took a few more minutes for Jacques to get everything under control. He then asked Eavin what had happened. "I was just trying to get the little bitch back to work," he said. James had to tighten his grip on Minerva's arms again to keep her from pouncing on the drunkard. "And she hauled off and popped me one! For no reason!"

"In the time I've known you, I can imagine a lady would have plenty of reason to strike you," Jacques replied. The other men looked as if they'd considered it themselves from time to time. "Though that doesn't excuse it. Miss Zipporah?" he looked at Minerva. "What have you to say?"

"I WAS doin' my job!" she protested. "I were fixin' this wanker's screw up!"

Eavin protested, quite loudly, but Jacques shut him up. "What 'screw up'?" he asked.

Minerva took a breath and pulled out the rolled up blueprints from her belt. "'E done fudged the 'ole mess up!" she said, holding out the plans and tapping on them to point out the mistake. "She's off a good quarter inch. She weren't gonna fit!" A quarter inch wasn't much, but it was enough to make the difference between a door that fit snugly, versus one that wouldn't shut right.

Jacques looked at the plans and Minerva's notes and measurements, then nodded. "Eavin," he said to the supervisor, "have someone look at that nose. And try to show up sober tomorrow, for once?" Eavin cast one last angry glare at Minerva, then stalked off.

"You," he pointed to Minerva. "Come with me."